


at last

by deadbeats (ricefields)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricefields/pseuds/deadbeats
Summary: their evening together.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	at last

they are lying down on their bed, retiring early after a dinner shared together. homemade tofu hamburger, cooked with love and laughter scattered throughout the process.

it was a good meal, made tastier with the knowledge that they are home together, at last.

they lie beside each other, immersing themselves in companionable silence. shoulders touching, the shared blanket is drawn up to their chests. the cicadas chirp, sound bleeding into their room.

atsumu’s breath is slow and deep, ever steady, like his stance on the court.

(of course he knows- he’s always been watching his every game religiously, be it in the dim light of their living room or curled up on the bed meant for two. he knows the shape of his back, strong and dependable amongst the sea of black and gold.

_13._

_Miya._

his mouth is the shape of their name, drifting soundlessly in hyōgo’s crisp night air, carried by the wind to osaka or to whichever place he stands.

a silent prayer.)

shinsuke reaches out to atsumu’s left hand, pulls it up and holds it with both of his hands right above his face, eyes squinting a little to see more clearly.

atsumu prefers to keep his nails short. his fingers are long and slender, the skin of his fingertips and palm is rough from years worth of game and training.

shinsuke strokes his thumb across the span of atsumu’s warm palm, left hand supporting atsumu’s wrist.

“shin, what are you doing,” atsumu hums, more of an inquiry than a question. shinsuke’s thumb writes something- a number? a character?- onto his palm.

“guess,” shinsuke says.

atsumu, still none the wiser, frowns a bit and ends up following the motions of shinsuke’s finger. one, two, three swipes of thumb. he stares, trying to piece the lines together. four, five, six, seven, and understanding dawns on him. eight, nine, and ten.

“guess again,” he says.

he looks sideways to shinsuke’s face, soft and serene in the dim of their bedroom light. the corner of his mouth curls up slightly, and atsumu feels a sudden burst of warmth in the deep of his chest, making its space behind his ribs near his thudding heart, and settles there.

“Miya,” his voice comes out a little bit breathless, with love or wonder or a plethora of other emotions stored within him he doesn’t really know, for all he knows is shinsuke, clasping his hand between his, smile deeper than before, eyes crinkling on the edges.

“i love you,” he blurts out, and shinsuke is laughing now, shoulders shaking, their hands rest on his sternum.

“why so sudden?” shinsuke pats his hand, playing with his fingers and tangling them. a beat of silence, and then, “your hands are so large. they amaze me every time.”

“well, technically i’m larger, taller, and heavier than you, shin. beside me, you’re just so sma-“ shinsuke pinches the skin on the back of his hand. “i’m not that small. you are just bigger than average, that’s all.”

“bigger?” he smirks. “which part, shin- ow! don’t pinch me!”

“you deserve it.” shinsuke huffs, then breathes out a little laugh. “sleep, now.”

atsumu tries his luck. “kiss me first.”

shinsuke pulls atsumu’s hand up once more, kisses each of his knuckles, fingertips, then presses his warm lips on his palm.

“there, done. sleep now, atsumu.”

atsumu smiles, feeling a little bit like a love-sick fool.

but isn’t he, every time he’s with shinsuke? isn’t he always, even when they are apart, the notifications from shinsuke lit his phone screen at dawn and during breakfast and at lunch at the dormitory and before he goes to bed to remind him of their distance?

he shifts to face shinsuke, cradles his body close to him, presses his lips against shinsuke’s forehead. “thank you,” he whispers.

for what, he need not to say it, for shinsuke always understands, even in his silence.

“welcome home,” shinsuke breathes out on the skin of his throat, and atsumu keeps him close, closer, his chin against his soft silver hair.

“i’m home,” and he closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> [crying over atskt on [twitter](https://twitter.com/portorosei)]


End file.
